Freudian Slip
by Pumpernickel
Summary: What happens when someone you love is just a little too similar to someone you hate? One-shot.


_Bioware owns everything, including Alistair. _=[

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Leliana sat by the tiny fire, carefully adding small twigs to coax it to grow. It was tedious work and she wasn't very good at it, but she'd had more experience in building a fire the old fashioned way than any of the others. They usually just stacked up some wood and had Wynne ignite it magically, but she'd been injured in the last battle and it would be imprudent to spend energy conjuring up a flame when she needed it to heal.

Morrigan could have taken over, but she was in a pissy mood and refused. They'd spent most of the day doing odd jobs from the Denerim Chantry board for a little extra coin – after all, supplies weren't cheap – and she had thrown a toddler-worthy fit over it. The Wardens had basically told her to stuff it, and she'd been pouting ever since.

Leliana glanced over to where Morrigan was lounging by a healthy fire of her own, paging through the grimoire they'd found in the Circle Tower. _She certainly had no problem magicking up a blaze for herself_, Leliana thought bitterly as she fed her own pathetic fire another scrap of wood. "'Tis not my responsibility to perform menial tasks," she'd said when Leliana asked for help with the fire, an obvious allusion to the day's work.

_Well, it won't be my responsibility to make sure you're fed tonight, you evil witch-bitch._

She shook her head to clear out the negative train of thought, and began humming a tune while she waited for her companions to return. Sten and the dog had gone off to hunt for dinner, and Zev was gathering plants to make another batch of poisons. Oghren was supposed to be picking some fruit from the grove they'd passed a mile or so back, but he'd been gone long enough to suggest he'd passed out drunk somewhere. She'd send Alistair to go look for him once he and Morgan got back with the firewood.

She smiled, thinking about the little lovebirds. They were good together – Morgan's smooth confidence balanced out Alistair's bumbling awkwardness, and they were both so full of wit and compassion and bravery. Gorgeous, too – they would have had beautiful children if not for the darkspawn taint.

The daughter of Teryn Cousland and the bastard son of King Maric, the last two Grey Wardens in all of Ferelden, finding happiness in each other despite all the tragedy and hardship they had to endure to defeat the Blight that threatened us all. It was just so damn _romantic._

She was happy for them, but she'd be lying if she said it didn't make her a little sad too. Jealous, even. It had been so long since she'd had the company of another, and she was beginning to doubt that she would ever find anyone who loved her like that. She thought Marjolaine had, but…well, that hadn't been the case.

She sighed, picking pieces of bark off of a twig. She would have sworn she was over her betrayal, but the wound had just been scabbed over, never really healed. Seeing Marjolaine again had ripped the scab off, leaving her hurt and bleeding, and with so many questions that she just couldn't find the right words for.

Leliana heard giggling from a patch of trees to the left of their little clearing, and turned to see Alistair stumbling towards her with a giant stack of wood in his arms, looking like he would topple over at any moment. Morgan was nowhere to be seen, and Leliana's brow creased in confusion. That was definitely her laugh just now – so where was she?

Squinting to see by the dim moonlight filtering through the trees, Leliana caught a glimpse of dark hair peeking out from over Alistair's shoulder, a flash of silver about his neck. As they neared, she realized why she hadn't seen her before – Morgan was hanging off of Alistair's back, like a child or a monkey. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and legs fastened to either side of his torso, clinging desperately like she was certain he was going to drop her.

Alistair finally made it to the middle of camp and dumped the wood unceremoniously near the fire, grinning hugely as Morgan hopped down and kissed him on the cheek. She turned to Leliana and laughed at her raised eyebrows and bemused smile. "He wanted to carry part of my share of the wood back, and it hurt his manly pride when I said it would be too heavy for him," she explained. "So he bet that not only could he carry _all_ the wood back, but he could carry me along with it."

"And I won," he said, sweeping her up into his arms as if she weighed nothing, armor and all. "So if you'll excuse us, Leli, I have a prize to claim."

"Have fu-u-un," Leliana said in a singsong voice as Alistair carried his prize off to his tent, a playful glint in his eyes. She smiled indulgently, shaking her head. _Kids._

Her smile faded as she began stacking up the scattered firewood. She was only 26, just a few years more than Alistair, but at that moment she felt like an old spinster. Maybe she would come back to Denerim when this was all over, find a nice man and settle down. Men were more work than women, but they were also less complicated. It was worth a shot, anyway. In the meantime…maybe a fling was in order. It wasn't her style, she preferred love to lust, but any kind of affection would surely be welcome. After all, she might not live long enough to settle down.

Hmm, maybe Zevran would be up for some company tonight…

She heard footsteps crunching lightly on the dry leaves behind her, and realized it must be Zev returning with his herbs – Sten and Oghren were far noisier than that. She smiled, thinking about how she would broach the subject with him, but when she looked up it was Morrigan standing three paces away, face twisted in disgust.

"Do those two have to be so indiscreet with their affection? 'Tis nauseating, to say the least."

"Oh, I think it's cute," Leliana replied as Morrigan sat down on the oversized log beside her. She raised her eyebrows in question. Morrigan never socialized at camp.

"They have decided to…_fraternize_ in the tent closest to my own. I was hoping the noise would be less distracting over here," she explained. Leliana bit her lip to keep from laughing and nodded, turning back to the fire. They sat there in silence, Morrigan turning back to her grimoire while Leliana fed the flames.

After several moments, Morrigan huffed impatiently, slamming her book shut and glaring at the fire. She leaned across Leliana, grabbing two large logs and throwing them into the pit. "Hey!" Leliana cried, watching the infant fire she'd worked so hard on smother under the weight of the wood.

"'Tis freezing cold, food will arrive at any moment, and at this rate we shall not be eating 'til morning," she snapped back, throwing another log in. Leliana opened her mouth to remind her that _she_ was the one who refused to help, when Morrigan flicked her fingers towards the wood, promptly engulfing it in flames.

"Um…thanks," Leliana said, backing away from the much larger fire. Morrigan simply nodded, and they resumed their companionable silence.

Well, almost silence. It was the forest, of course, so there were constant little noises to draw attention. The babbling of a small stream nearby. The hoot of an owl. Crickets chirping.

A soft moan. "Oh, _Morrigan…_"

A heartbeat of silence.

A shriek. "WHAT?"

Leliana's eyes went wide, jaw dropping in surprise. She glanced at the witch beside her to find the expression mirrored back.

Frantic mumbling.

The distinct sound of a hand slapping a face.

Leliana stared in shock as the flap of Alistair's tent whipped open and Morgan climbed out in nothing but her smallclothes. Part of her appreciated the view, but the rest was too stunned to notice as Morgan stalked across the camp with a murderous glare on her face. Alistair, bare-chested and red-faced, scrambled out seconds later, holding his cheek and looking like he couldn't decide if he should go after her or just crawl back into his tent and die.

"I said I'm sorry! I didn't meant it, they're just so damn similar!" he called, but she didn't even look back before entering her own tent and violently pulling the flap shut.

Alistair sighed heavily, shoulders drooping in defeat. He looked at her tent for a long moment before slowly turning his gaze towards the two women openly staring at him. His face went impossibly redder when he realized they'd heard everything, and he immediately turned and fled back into his tent.

"I don't know whether to laugh or vomit," Morrigan whispered, voice slightly rougher than usual. Then she seemed to make up her mind, doubling over with a cackle that would make Flemeth proud. Leliana let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, and shook her head.

_Kids._

-x-_  
_

Morgan stayed in her tent all night and into the morning, refusing dinner and breakfast. Alistair's misery was infectious, and a gloomy mood settled over the entire party as they packed up camp.

Well, everyone but Morrigan. She'd had a perpetual grin on her face since _the incident. _It shouldn't have been surprising that she took such joy in Alistair's distress, but well…seeing Morrigan _grin _was just disconcerting, whatever the reason. She'd kept her thoughts to herself though, thank the Maker – Leliana wasn't sure Alistair would be able to handle any of her snarky comments today.

Of course, it was too good to last.

"So…Alistair…" Morrigan began, voice light and teasing. Leliana shot her a warning glance, but she just flashed that smug, deviant smile of hers and continued. "I was curious as to why your fellow Grey Warden has chosen to remain secluded in her tent. 'Tis been quite a while."

"Shut up. That is none of your business."

"What? No questions allowed? You do not wish to – "

"I said SHUT UP! I will run this sword though you, I'm not joking!" he exclaimed, grabbing the hilt of his longsword. He glared at her, face bright red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment, and Leliana thought if Morrigan kept pushing he might actually make good on his threat – and she would _not_ be getting in the middle of it.

Morrigan's smirk widened, like she was trying to hold back that ridiculous grin she'd worn all day. "Ohh, I see. Most serious then," she said, voice dripping with mock concern.

"This discussion is over," he said in a tone that left no room for argument. Regardless, Morrigan opened her mouth to push him just a little bit farther, but abruptly shut it when Morgan's tent opened.

The Warden stepped out fully armed, face carefully neutral. Everyone stopped what they were doing to look at her questioningly, but even under the scrutiny her expression didn't waver. Leliana had a moment to ponder how she'd managed to get her armor out of Alistair's tent without anyone – including the _bard_ and _assassin_ – noticing. Maker's breath she could be stealthy when she wanted to be.

"Since you're all apparently waiting for me to say something, I have an announcement," Morgan started, voice loud, clear, and entirely unashamed. Good for her. "From now on I will be going by my middle name, Elissa, due to…_complications_ with my given name. Please make the switch immediately. Thank you, and let's get a move on – I want to be at Warden's Peak within two days."

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**Author's Note:** My first playthrough of the game I named my PC Morgan, unaware that there was a character in the game named Morrigan. Every time Alistair would say Morrigan in his I-hate-you voice, my fangirly heart would bleed a little bit. I ended up restarting the game after Lothering because it bothered me so much, thus the idea for this fic. Also, I really wanted to use the break-up banter, but didn't really want to write a break-up fic. –shrug–


End file.
